


Ice

by baranduin



Series: No Night Is Too Long [4]
Category: No Night is Too Long (2002)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-14
Updated: 2010-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-06 06:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baranduin/pseuds/baranduin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Book-verse. Stuck in Alaska without Tim, oh, the angst of it all!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ice

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the fanfic100 community challenge #015--Blue.

Wherever I look, there's blue and I can't get away from it. I hadn't ever thought that such a thing could have a depressive effect on me; it's always been my favorite colour. But there it is all around me and I'm beginning to think I'm going to have to lock myself in my cabin to get a little peace of mind. That is, I would if the damned doors locked around here.

The thing is, it all just reminds me of Tim's eyes. How wretchedly adolescent and puerile is that of me? And the blue I see doesn't even have to be near the shade I'm carrying around in my head; it's all just merged into one for me now.

How ridiculous. It can't be true; any idiot knows that. And I can be logical about it. After all, that's my bread and butter, being logical, being careful not to infer the wrong conclusion from inadequate yet admittedly beguiling evidence. Of course I'm thinking of paleontology here; whatever else he is, Tim Cornish is not a collection of dried up old bones. Nevertheless, I should be able to apply the same disciplined methodology.

Right then, start with the empirical evidence. It's time to take inventory of my surroundings:

The blues of the ocean. Well, that's ridiculous right off the bat, isn't it? It's not as if there's one single shade of blue that one sees in the ocean, it's all so changeable. Rather like Tim, the way he blows hot and cold.

How about the blue of the sky? That should make me happy, shouldn't it? It has before. I've always said to myself that the blue of the sky in Alaska on a clear summer day takes one's breath away. I've said the same to Tim far too many times for his limited tolerance though I couldn't seem to stop myself before I left for Juneau, and I can't stop now when I write to him in far too many letters. But it's no more than the truth; the blue of the Alaskan sky is that pure. Well, now, I think I might be getting somewhere because that quality of untouched perfection can't be something that I can compare to Tim, can it? Unless one considers the expression in the blue eyes of a debased former choir boy to hold a form of purity. I wish I didn't.

Then there's the ice. Is there any blue like that which one sees in glacial ice? It almost freezes one just to look at it from a distance, much less from close up and personal the way I have. When the light is right, one can see right through it to its cold heart and yet it's all still a mystery. I suppose that's why the blue of the ice reminds me most of Tim's eyes.

How fucking poetic I've waxed. Perhaps I should turn this into a poem and send it to him. Probably wouldn't be the first one he's ever gotten.


End file.
